Attalla awoke with his head pounding. When he tried to raise up it throbbed as if it were being used as a ball in a field kicker match. He was in a cave lit by some sort of fluorescent moss on the cave walls. The light was just barely bright enough to see a couple of feet around him and in the places where the moss was thickest.
Tt’i appeared instantly by his side in the pooled edge. He reached out and took Attalla’s hand to comfort him. “No move,” he said in Attalla’s head. Attalla saw a picture appear of himself laying quietly on the rocky beach in the cave. It was difficult for the oacoco to put anything in words. It was much easier for them to ‘picture talk.’ That was why talking to them was such a slow process.
The advantages were that he could literally ‘see’ what Tt’i saw. He could see how badly his head was injured. It was lucky he was still alive.
He pictured Tt’i and him sharing a clam, a way of saying ‘thank you’ for his help. He had assumed the boy was the one who saved him since there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.
Tt’i returned the picture and added in another showing Attalla sleeping. He wanted him to rest some more.
How long had he been unconscious? The oacoco had no since of measured time. They only knew time as the ocean and the species in it flowed around them. He managed to lift his wrist with the comlink on it to eye level. It was blank. Waterlogged. Dead.
3su would be worried. He had to get back to the pod and up to the ship, but even the thought of moving right now was exhausting.
He’d rest for a little longer. 3su wouldn’t do anything rash.